


The Way to a Man's Heart

by Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Brief Use of a Homosexual Slur, H/D Food Fair 2018, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter to the Rescue, M/M, Minor Violence, Parolled Draco Malfoy, Personal Chef Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Random Encounters, Unemployed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchersn/pseuds/Drarryismymuse
Summary: Draco is released from Azkaban and given one week to find gainful employment...or else. A chance encounter with the ever-meddling Harry Potter changes the course of his week, and ultimately his life.This is a story of mistakes, burnt toast, awkward encounters, rude employees, bold gestures, and a bit of anal. :D





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[92](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit).
> 
> I first want to thank the mods for hosting the enormous, brilliant fair! They are angels on earth, especially in dealing with my many delays and extension requests. I also want to thank the prompter for this amazing prompt. I had so much fun and feel so proud of this story.
> 
> Secondly, I want to thank my Alpha reader for giving me unending encouragement during this process and being so inspired by my words to contribute artwork to this story. I am beyond humbled that anyone would be inspired and willing to make art for me and I definitely feel like I am the luckiest ever. 
> 
> Last, but ABSOLUTELY not least, I want to thank my Beta reader for being so fast and always willing to help me out at any time. They have been through the ringer with my terrible writing schedule and have always managed to stay smiling and encouraging. Here's to many more story swaps!! My Beta also gets ALL the credit for the amazing parchment images in here so we could preserve Draco's beautiful handwriting for all readers.

Draco lay on the hard cot that had been his only furniture for the past year. A particularly recalcitrant knot pressed firmly into his shoulder blade and he briefly considered shifting, but just as quickly dismissed the idea—no amount of moving would bring him comfort. His eyes remained stubbornly open as the bone-deep blackness of his surroundings slowly lightened with the breaking dawn and weak light fought its way through the large cracks in the wall.

Today was the day—the day he was being released from Azkaban. He supposed he should be happy, but in reality he couldn’t feel much of anything. Even though the Dementors had been banished from the wizard prison, their aura of despair had permeated the crumbling rock and rusted steel. He was lucky that his sentence was only a year. At least he could still remember a time he had been happy, even if he could no longer _feel_ it. Others that had been here longer weren’t so fortunate.

A distant clang of metal set Draco’s heart racing. Judging by the degree of light in his cell, he figured it was time for the guard to collect him, but he didn’t feel ready yet. Though the guard had told him yesterday to prepare for release, he had received no further information and he quite literally had no idea what to expect. He hoped he would be able to go home and see his mother.

~

He was not going to be able to see his mother. Draco became increasingly panicked as he sat in the hard wooden chair in his probation enforcer’s small office in the DMLE and listened to the terms of his release. _No contact with his mother or former friends. No Apparition. No wand. Must find and sustain employment. Random searches. Weekly visits._

With each new rule imposed he wondered why they had bothered to let him out at all. He had no idea how he would go about finding employment with no wand, no manual skills, and no contacts.

Finally, he could no longer contain his panic, “How am I supposed to comply to these terms with all the restrictions!? It’s like you’ve cut off my arms and told me to paint!”

His enforcer, Hopkins, smiled nastily in response, “Personally, I think we are being much too lenient on your type. You’ll manage or you’ll go back, simple as that.” He leaned back in his chair and looked much too pleased.

“Go...go back?” Draco questioned.

“Of course. You put one hair out of line and you go back to Azkaban. Now, we’ll put you up in the Leaky for one week while you find employment. If at the end of that week you don’t have a job and a means to support yourself, you go back to your cell with no chance at parole for another year.”

Draco paled. How in Merlin’s name would he be able to find a job in one week?

~

Draco lay on the rickety bed in his bare room at the Leaky. He had stayed up long into the night pacing the wooden floors and trying to think of places to find a job. There was absolutely no way he could go Muggle, but he was drawing a complete blank on any magical jobs that didn’t actually require magic. He had tried to conjure a few spells wandlessly, but other than a shaky levitating charm he hadn’t gotten far. Exhaustion finally drove him to the sparse bed and he sank into its simple, but comfortable, mattress.

Now he stared at the exposed beams running across the ceiling and tried to bite back the bile of panic that rose as soon as his eyes had opened. He closed his eyes again and pictured the cracked stone walls of his cell in Azkaban, drawing comfort from the familiarity that blossomed in his chest. Intellectually he knew this wasn’t a good sign for his mental health, but he took the comfort it provided anyway and wearily rolled out of bed. Familiar or not, he still felt the despair of Azkaban and had no intention of going back.

Draco dressed in the shapeless clothes he had been provided when he was dropped at the Leaky. He didn’t know why they couldn’t have just taken clothes from his house; when he had asked, Hopkins just laughed mockingly and shoved the bag of clothes and other basic necessities into his chest, then turned and left, still laughing.

Draco sighed at his reflection and tried to adjust the way-too-large shirt into a more pleasing shape, but soon gave up the futile attempt. If he at least had his wand he could have altered the clothes to fit better, which may have helped the hideous cut look decent on his thin frame. He cringed at himself in the mirror; he looked absolutely ridiculous. He had expected things to be hard once he was released from Azkaban, but he _hadn’t_ expected the continued isolation and impossible stipulations. Knowing he looked as good as he was going to, he took a deep breath and left his room.

His plan for the day was to visit a few choice shops in Diagon Alley and hope for the best, but first: tea. He had been given a 2 Galleon daily stipend from the Ministry for meals and though he thought that sounded low, he hadn’t paid attention to food prices in years, so maybe it was plenty. Either way, he’d have to pay attention as he knew he couldn’t count on any sympathy from Hopkins if he didn’t manage his funds well.

Mercifully, there weren’t many other folks in the bar when he entered. He hadn’t yet seen anyone that he knew well and he wished to keep it that way for as long as possible. He chose a booth in the far back corner and scooted close to the wall. He located the menu and flipped it open to see what he could have for breakfast; he hadn’t starved while in Azkaban, but he also had never been given enough to be entirely satisfied. He was really looking forward to a proper meal.

His heart sank. 6 Sickles for the cuppa alone! The tiny print below indicated the tea was served indefinitely for the course of the meal, but this was essentially one-third of his daily budget!

“What’ll you ‘ave?” came a gruff voice from above Draco, making him startle.

Draco quickly glanced at the menu once more before closing it, “I’ll have a cup of tea and toast with butter.”

Tom the barman quirked a brow, “Not a very filling breakfast for a new parolee.”

“Yes, well, it’s what I would like. I assume the tea will be unlimited with the toast?”

“Aye.” Tom paused a moment longer then headed to the kitchen, quickly returning with a plain tea service and a few slices of toast.

After a slow breakfast during which he prepared himself as much as he could for the debasement of asking for a job, Draco finally left the sanctuary of his hidden booth and hesitantly walked out toward the back alley. He had only arrived in Diagon Alley from this entrance once before but he felt confident that he remembered the way correctly.

He stepped outside and was immediately faced with the imposing brick wall; he threw his hands up in frustration, “For fucks sake!” he yelled. He couldn’t even enter Diagon Alley without a wand! How in Salazar’s forsaken world was he supposed to do _anything_ without a wand?

“Forgot that bit, did ya?” asked Tom as he stepped into the small courtyard and approached the wall with his wand raised.

Draco scowled at him, “How much did they tell you about me?”

“Enough, I suppose.” replied Tom as he tapped the proper sequence of bricks that would open the gateway to Diagon. “There should be a good flow of folks in and out later today for you to return. I’ll do a final check at 5:00pm if I’ve not seen yeh.”

Draco huffed in response and entered Diagon Alley through the now open entrance.

~

“I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy, we simply don’t have any openings available for you.”

“Mr. Crawley, I assure you I would be an asset to the Apothecary. I was the top student in Potions during my time at Hogwarts and surely you know who mentored me. You won’t find a better suited employee.”

Mr. Crawley stared at Draco as if he were an offensive odour or a street beggar, “I think we are all aware who mentored you, Mr. Malfoy. After all, didn’t it just afford you free room and board for the past year? Now, if you would be so kind as to exit my shop, we are finished.”

Draco stared for a moment longer, then turned and left. He hadn’t actually expected to receive a job on his first try—but he hadn’t expected _not_ to either. He continued through Diagon Alley to his second choice in employment—Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. He really was well-suited for an apothecary job and felt it was his best shot.

Thirty minutes later, he was starting to worry. The owner of Slug & Jiggers had also refused to hire him, indicating his unsavory reputation and how that would negatively impact his potion sales if people thought they could be poisoned. Draco had tried to convince him that he could stay in the back and merely prep ingredients, but the owner was having none of it.

He quickly moved on to the next shop on his list, Obscurus Books. Malfoy Manor had an extensive library that Draco had used well during his childhood; surely this would translate to hireable experience.  

Or not. He had practically been chased out of the shop and asked not to return. He was hungry, tired from the drastic increase in physical activity, and utterly defeated. He retreated to a small cafe and took up residence in a corner booth. He used another 6 precious Sickles for a cup of tea and proceeded to nurse his despair and shattered ego.

~*~

“Oi! Just for that you get no tea!” Harry laughed as he stepped out the front door of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. He was spending the day helping George with some remodeling and moving of inventory in the shop and desperately needed a tea. He genuinely enjoyed helping George in the shop, but when the man was in his creative space he was quite a handful.

Smiling politely at a few strangers who called out to him, he made his way to the closest cafe in Diagon. He opened the door and started purposely toward the counter, scanning the faces of the other patrons as he went out of habitual instinct. His eyes had already flicked back to the cashier before his brain registered an anomaly.

 

He scanned the room again and his heart nearly stopped when he spotted it. Nestled in a corner of the small shop was the unmistakable gleam of white-blonde hair that could only belong to a Malfoy. The man-in-question was looking down at the table and didn’t seem aware of his surroundings at all. Harry’s heart was striving to make up for the near-stop earlier and was currently beating at least twice as fast as normal. He was suddenly terrified that Malfoy would look up and spot him staring at him like a complete tosser. He abruptly turned heel and left the shop in a sprint; he didn’t stop until he was safely ensconced back in Wheezes.

“Harry, ya bellend, where’s my tea!?” squawked George. “Harry? You ok, mate?” George immediately dropped his joking demeanor and approached Harry in concern.

“Y-yeah. I...I saw Malfoy.”

“Malfoy! Lucius?”

“What? No! Malfoy, **_my_ ** _Malfoy._ Well-I mean, not _mine_ , but, ya know…” Harry looked at George in desperation, “Draco Malfoy. He’s here. In Diagon.”

“Well...did he give you grief or something?” George asked, confused by Harry’s discomfort.

“No. He didn’t see me.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll pop upstairs and make some tea. How about you start moving the Portable Swamps.” George eyed Harry again as he walked away; he thought he ought to send an owl to Ron.

~

Harry lay in his bed that night replaying the image of Malfoy sitting in the shop on repeat: _Why was he in there? When did he get out of Azkaban? Was he hiding anything? He looked good. Shit, no. He looked like always, if a bit thinner. Did he always look good? Shit._ Harry rolled over, reached into his bedside drawer, grabbed a small vial of sleeping draught and downed it. He didn’t want to keep thinking tonight.

The incessant buzzing of an alarm finally roused Harry from sleep. He groaned and waved his hand, putting an instant stop to the intrusive noise. He felt a little disoriented from the lingering effects of the draught he had taken and he briefly considered sending a patronus to George to skive off helping today, but then he remembered the reason he had taken the draught in the first place. _Malfoy._ He rolled out of bed and started to get ready.

An hour later, Harry cautiously entered the same small coffee shop he had seen Malfoy in yesterday. He glanced around and was surprisingly disappointed he didn’t see him. He ordered a tea for George and a coffee for himself; he was going to need something strong to make it through today.

Later, after a long morning of moving shelves and setting up new displays, Harry was already knackered and absolutely starving. “Hey George, do you mind if I pop over to lunch with Ron?”

George smiled, “Sure thing Harry, tell him I say hi. Probably won’t need you for the rest of the day if you get caught up in anything.”

“What would I get caught up in?”

“Oh, I dunno. Just saying.” George winked and smiled knowingly at Harry.

Only Harry didn’t know _what_ he supposedly knew.

~

“Hey Mate, brought lunch.” Harry said while walking into Ron’s office in the DMLE. He held up a bag of Chinese takeaway and motioned for Ron to clear a spot on his desk.

Ron grinned as he pushed a pile of papers to the side and scooted up close to help Harry unpack the bag, “I thought I might see you today.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“George owled me. Malfoy, huh?” Harry choked on his bite of rice. Ron laughed as Harry drank some water and tried to clear his throat. “He was released this week. He’s on parole and I imagine he’s in Diagon trying to find a job; that’s one of the listed conditions of his release.”

Harry attempted to look nonchalant, “Ah, good to know. I mean, I didn’t ask or anything. But still, good to know.” They ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Harry cleared his throat again, “So, just curious, what else did you see in his file?”

Ron bit back a chuckle, “There are a lot of conditions he has to follow. Some are crazy, like no wand, he’s got to find a job, no contact with family or former friends. Apparently if he doesn’t comply he goes back to Azkaban.”

“Goes back? Wow. Hm.” They lapsed into silence again for a few moments until Ron asked how things were going in the shop and Harry spent the rest of the time filling him in on the updates that were in progress.

Once lunch was over, Harry thought about going to Wheezes, but his mind was still trying to work through what he had learned about Malfoy. Based on how he looked in the cafe, his job search wasn’t going well. He ended up Apparating back to Diagon Alley and walking around, hoping to run into Malfoy again. He even spent a couple of hours in the cafe during the afternoon but he didn’t catch another glimpse of the platinum head.

Frustrated at his lack of success and more than a little confused over his own motivations, Harry decided that he needed a night out. A nice, Muggle night out.

~

Harry woke and immediately froze, listening intently for the danger that must have roused him. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry. His eyes darted to the bedside table and noted his missing wand, _fuck._ He jumped when the pile of covers next him rustled and an arm snaked around his waist.

“What’s going on?” a sleepy, sandy-blonde head mumbled. “Ready for another go?” The hair shifted into a face with a crooked, sloppy grin and Harry bit back a groan. Memories from the night trickled back to him: a Muggle bar, a cute bloke, stumbling to Grimmauld, throwing his wand in a drawer, messy kisses, blow jobs...and apparently passing out in bed.

Harry gently pushed the hand now groping his cock away and slid out of bed, “‘M going for water,” he mumbled while quickly slipping on some joggers and then backing out of the room. He cursed himself as he plodded down the stairs. He didn’t typically drink so much and always had the blokes out the door before he crashed for the night.

Harry grumbled as he wandlessly Accio’d a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water. He leaned against the counter and contemplated how best to get the bloke out of his bed. The view outside his kitchen window was still dark, but he could hear the birds starting their morning cacophony and he knew dawn was approaching.

His stomach rumbled and he turned to search his cupboards and fridge for something quick to eat. It had been a couple of weeks since Kreacher had last stopped by and stocked his fridge or prepared food and Harry hadn’t been bothered to do his own shopping. He settled on some bread and jam because he didn’t want to wait for toast.

Somewhat sated and with his head a little less poundy, he headed back upstairs to gently prod the bloke into leaving. He entered his room and stopped short. The man was still awake and propped in the middle of the large bed, stroking his hard cock and staring at Harry. Harry gulped, then shrugged and slid his joggers off, soon joining the now smiling man on his bed.

~*~

“Look, I’ll do anything: dishes, sweeping, trash-gathering, anything. Just—I just need a job.” Draco was pleading with the owner of the cafe he had frequented the past week. He truly thought food service was the lowest he could go but he was desperate and no longer had options. Tomorrow was his last day out and if he didn’t secure something he’d be going back to Azkaban.

“I’m so sorry sweetie, I just can’t. You don’t have any skills, or a wand, and though I know you’ve paid your time, I can’t ignore how my customers look at you. I really hope you find something suitable.” The older woman patted his shoulder and turned away.

Draco’s shoulders slumped as he walked back to the alley entrance to the Leaky. He had tried nearly every shop in Diagon and had received some variation of the same answer everywhere. Either folks didn’t want him there because of his reputation, or he couldn’t do any non-magic modification of the work without a wand. He had been working on his wandless magic all week but had not made much progress, if any at all.

Draco shuffled into the bar and into his regular booth. Tom came over shortly, “The usual tonight?” Draco sighed and pulled out what remained of his stipend. He had been so hungry today that he had been forced to purchase a sandwich for lunch. He had only 10 Sickles left.

“Just a tea tonight, Tom,” he said, weariness evident in every syllable. Tom eyed him briefly before turning away. Draco rested his forehead on the table and tried to force his worn out mind to keep thinking of a way to secure employment. He heard Tom’s footsteps approaching and slowly lifted his head. He was shocked when a full roast dinner was placed in front of him. The smell was absolutely divine and his stomach rumbled loudly...but he couldn’t afford this. “Tom, you know I can’t pay for this,” Draco said while reluctantly pushing the plate away.

“Don’t be daft, it’s on the house tonight. You look half-starved,” Tom said gruffly.

“I...I don’t know…” Tom crossed his arms and looked as if he would brook no argument. “Thank you,” Draco whispered. He could no longer look Tom in the eye as he shamefully, and gratefully, tucked into the dinner.

~

The next morning, Draco packed up the few items he had been given and tied them up in one of the plain shirts. He stopped at the door and looked around the room he had occupied for the past week. It looked as if no one had been there at all. Likely, this time tomorrow he would be back in his cell in Azkaban convincing himself this week had been nothing more than a hallucination.

He planned to risk going into some of the shops in Knockturn Alley today. He figured as long as he stayed away from any shops his family had previously frequented he would be within his guidelines, and perhaps his reputation would be a boon rather than a hindrance.

He opted to skip breakfast and asked Tom to go ahead and let him into Diagon. He planned to swing by the cafe for a tea and then immediately start asking around the tamer Knockturn shops.

Draco made it to the cafe without incident and ordered his tea to go. As he waited for it to be prepared he heard the door open and glanced toward it out of habit. His heart stopped. He clutched the counter and willed his knees to stay firm and not pitch him to floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

The man who had just entered the cafe had also stopped in his tracks. The two stared at each other, seemingly trying to gauge what an appropriate reaction would be. The issue was decided when another patron tried to enter the store and impatiently jostled the man blocking the entrance.

As Draco remained rooted to the spot, Harry _freakin_ Potter walked directly up to him and just…. _stood there_. Somehow, Draco regained his composure first, “Potter.”

“Malfoy. Er. Hi.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked like he would rather be anywhere else, despite the fact _he_ had approached Draco. “Um, how’s the job hunt going?”

Draco paused, “What?”

“Uh, I mean, I know…” Harry had turned bright red. Draco couldn’t care less about his discomfort; how did he know what Draco was doing?

“Have you been following me!?” Draco’s voice came out a little shriller than he planned, but he would not be able to handle it if Potter had been following him around all week, watching rejection after rejection.

“What? No! I just, Ron found out what you were…well, he told me…”

“So you had the Weasel look me up? Is he an enforcer? Are you?”

“No. Ron is an auror. I...well, I don’t really do anything specific right now.”

“That is hardly surprising. A year has passed and you are still living off your reputation as the Golden Boy. I can’t say it was a pleasure to see you, but I really must be going. _Obviously_ you know why.” With that, Draco snatched his tea from the counter and huffed past Harry and out of the cafe.

He hurried around a corner and collapsed against the wall to catch his breath and calm his shaking. He was mortified. Of _course_ Potter had meddled in his business; Draco really thought he would never see him again after the trials a year ago. For some reason, which Draco had yet to figure out, Harry had spoken on his and his mother’s behalf and it had gone a long way to reduce both of their sentences. Being Marked, he’d still gotten a year in Azkaban, but it was way better than the 30 years his father had received.

His mother had been able to get by with just house arrest, and as far as he knew that’s where she still was. Merlin, he missed his mother. Many times this week he had considered going to see her—even though it would cause his immediate return to Azkaban, he thought it would be worth it to just see her for a minute. Only his desire to have a normal life sooner rather than later prevented him from acting so rashly.

Once Draco had fully collected himself and felt that enough time had passed for Harry to also have left the area, he exited the little alley he had ducked into and headed toward Knockturn. He stopped just outside the decrepit tunnel that lead to Knockturn and finished his tea, tossing the cup in a nearby bin. He attempted to straighten his large clothes, took a deep breath, and made it one step into the tunnel before he heard a familiar voice yell out and felt his body go stiff with a magical bind.

~*~

“You should have seen me mate, I looked like a complete wanker!” Harry lamented, throwing himself dramatically across the small couch in Ron’s office.

“Since when do you care what you look like to Malfoy?” Ron was busy reading through a report as he said this and missed Harry’s glare, “ _Malfoy_ is a wanker, he probably didn’t notice you being one.” Ron finally glanced up, “What?”

“He definitely noticed. He thought I was following him ag—erm, following him.” Harry blushed and looked away, pretending to have a deep interest in the fabric of the couch.

Ron laughed, loudly, “Bloody hell Harry, what is it about him that always sucks you in!? He’s a fucking posh little git!” Ron had nearly lost it now, his report lay abandoned on his desk as he guffawed and smacked his leg.

Harry sat up straight, “I hardly think it’s as funny as you’re making it out to be. And he doesn’t ‘suck’ me in; I just think sometimes he needs a little more surveillance than others. But no, you’re right—it’s not like I caught him being a Death Eater before or anything!” Harry was in a right strop now. He had stood during his rant and was pacing in front of Ron’s desk.

Ron held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and tried desperately to bite back the chuckles that still threatened to erupt. “I’m just saying mate, he gets you worked up like none other. I remember when Hermione used to get me worked up like that.” Ron waggled his eyebrows.

“Are you...wh-what the fuck Ron? I don’t fancy him! Just because I like blokes doesn’t mean I like them all. And _Malfoy_!? Seriously, I better call ‘Mione, you’ve lost the plot—I just, I can’t. You know, I’ll talk to you later, when you’ve calmed down a bit.” Ron could no longer contain his mirth and burst into a new set of cackles. Face burning, Harry stomped out of his office, still grumbling to himself about how completely ludicrous Ron was being.

As he exited the auror hall a commotion in the enforcer’s hall drifted into his consciousness; he was still upset at Ron’s childish antics and initially dismissed the yelling—until, with a jolt, he realized that he recognized the shrill voice. His feet reacted before his brain and he was already approaching a small huddle in the enforcer’s hall before he even knew he had changed direction.

“I was NOT going to meet up with _anyone_! I was merely trying to find a source of employment that complied with the impossible restrictions you put on me!” Draco looked frantic, “Has anyone ever been able to do it?”

Harry saw a squat man holding his wand out, apparently keeping Draco’s hands bound with an _Incarcerous_ , “Others aren’t your concern. I caught you going into Knockturn to meet up with old Death Eaters—I told you these felons can’t be rehabilitated!” The man had turned to address the two other enforcers that were standing with him.

“But I wasn’t—”

“What the bloody hell is going on here!?” Harry interrupted, and with an angry wave of his hand he dissolved the binds weaved around Draco’s wrists. All four faces turned to him in shock.

“Well-I-I hardly think this is a matter worth _your_ attention,” stuttered Hopkins while subtly placing himself in front of Draco as if blocking Harry’s view would redirect his attention.

“Why do you have him here, and why was he bound?” Harry’s calm, quiet tone belied the rage boiling just beneath the surface. Though Hopkins looked uncomfortable, he didn’t seem to be aware of the true danger.

“Mr. Potter, this is enforcer business and what I am doing with my parolee is of no concern to any other department...or person, seeing as how you don’t even have a position here.” Hopkins seemed emboldened after his speech and briefly glanced back at the other two enforcers to seek further encouragement. His face fell when he realized the two men had retreated nearly to the other end of the hall and were definitely avoiding eye contact.

Harry stepped closer, “I believe Malfoy was looking for a job. It’s early yet, why is he here? His week isn’t up yet.”

Hopkins paled, “You don’t know what you’re on about! I found him going into Knockturn to rally up some old allies. He’s a danger to society!” Draco huffed a laugh behind him.

Harry looked questioningly at Draco, “Well?”

Draco bristled at the implication, “I was not going to rally any supposed ‘allies’ as he says. I _was_ going into Knockturn, but only to see if anyone less biased there would hire me. He came from behind and bound me without explanation and brought me back here, presumably to throw me back in Azkaban, but I should be able to finish my week!”

“If he ain’t found a job by now, he’s not going to find one, so I might as well save some money for the Ministry and send ‘em back!” Hopkins had turned bright red and was puffing out his chest in a fake show of machismo.

Harry gritted his teeth. “He has a job.”

Both Draco and Hopkins snapped their gaze to Harry. “I do?” “He does?” they said in unison.

“Yes. With me. He’s going to...erm...cook for me.” Harry distractedly scratched his head and looked pointedly at Draco, who looked hilariously confused and disgusted.

Hopkins looked between Harry and Draco. “Surely you aren’t serious. He’s a criminal and you’re a...a…”

“I’m serious. The war is over; it’s time for old prejudices to be over too. If you need proof I can send the paperwork over tomorrow, I assume that will be enough?” Harry made direct eye contact with Hopkins in a silent challenge.

Seeing his power slipping away, Hopkins turned towards Draco, “Do you even accept this position, if it’s even real? You know there will be searches. And you can’t have your wand. And your funding here is cut off, so you have to find a place to stay, by tonight.” Hopkins leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, seemingly in triumph.

“His position includes room and board,” Harry said impulsively, just managing to bite back his own look of horror. Again, two sets of eyes stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

Draco cleared his throat, “As you can see, I have a...position. I believe that means we are done here for now.” He lightly stepped around Hopkins and brushed past Harry to leave the department.

“Er, well, I’ll owl the details.” Harry said to a gobsmacked Hopkins before turning to follow Draco. _What the ever-living fuck have I done_ he thought as he practically chased after the blonde head.


	2. Part 2

“What the fuck, Potter!?” Draco rounded on Harry as soon as they had both stepped out of the floo and into Grimmauld Place. “What were you thinking!? Sure, this buys me a bit of time, but you saw him! I won’t be able to find employment in a place they find appropriate and they’ll send me back—and I’ll be all the worse off for your little power trip!”

“I—wait, what? Why do you need another job?” Harry questioned. 

Draco stopped his pacing and blinked slowly at Harry, “Don’t tell me you were serious.”

Harry blushed and self-consciously rubbed his neck, “Erm...yeah?”

“Merlin,” Draco whispered, “you really are daft.” He paused for a moment and an awkward heaviness filled the air. “Why?”

“Um. Well, it wasn’t fair. You weren’t doing anything wrong and he was breaking the rules. It just didn’t seem right.” Harry shrugged and ran the toe of his shoe over a bump in the rug. “So. Are you gonna stay?” Harry stared determinedly at the floor as he asked. 

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.” Draco sighed, “Why cooking?”

Harry couldn’t bite back a grin, “Kreacher doesn’t come by often and I hate cooking. I never have anything good to eat here, so…” Harry trailed off with a shrug.

“Potter, I’ve never cooked. I  _ literally _ don’t know the first thing about making food.”

“It’s that, or cleaning.” Both Harry and Draco looked around the tired, dingy room. 

Draco visibly shuddered, “So, where’s the kitchen?”

Harry outright laughed now, “You don’t have to start straight away. Besides, we probably need to pick up your stuff.”

Draco huffed a bitter laugh, “What stuff?” 

“Aren’t you wearing a uniform, or something?” Harry looked Draco up and down, a puzzled expression on his face, “Since you’re not in official custody anymore I figured you’d be eager to change into your own clothes.”

Draco’s cheeks tinged pink, “These are my clothes,” he whispered, looking down, “at least, the only clothes they gave me on release. I can’t go to the Manor to pick up more and Hopkins was unwilling.”

“Oh. Erm...there’s nothing you need to pick up?”

Draco cringed and blushed even more furiously, “I… Well, it depends on, you know, wages.” Draco’s voice cracked on the last word and he looked like he would rather be dead than discussing getting a wage from Harry Potter. 

“Oh god! I hadn’t really thought of that. I mean…” Harry was blushing almost as much as Draco at this point. He had never felt more awkward.  _ What in the world do you pay an ex-wealthy, ex-enemy, still-pratty git? _ “Um, how about you just get anything you need and charge it to my Gringotts? Food, clothes, anything…”

“Right. Fine. So, this is really happening?”

“Seems it.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, “Where am I to sleep, Potter? I wish to retire.”

“It’s barely lunch,” Harry said in confusion. Draco just stared at him incredulously. “Right. Um, there’s only one room made up right now, so you can have that one. I’ll have Kreacher make up a new room for guests next time he’s here.”

Something clicked into place for Draco, “YOU HAVE A HOUSE ELF!?” 

“Whoa, what the fuck? I mean, Kreacher is  _ technically _ mine—I tried to free him, but he completely freaked out, so we compromised by him staying in my employ but spending most of his time at Hogwarts.”

“WHY DO YOU NEED ME IF YOU HAVE A HOUSE ELF!?”

“Fucks sake, calm down. Kreacher doesn’t come often, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to cook for me.” Harry shot a crooked grin behind him.

Draco clenched his jaw and balled his fists. He thought of his mother and how every day he managed to make it through this unbelievable situation was one day closer to seeing her.

~

To his surprise, Draco made it through that day and night. The room he had been given was—of course—directly across the hall from Potter’s; and despite this being an old Black house, there was only one lavatory on the floor. Draco thought Azkaban had been bad, but even there he had his own toilet; now he was sharing one with his once-enemy and now-employer.  _ What had his life become? _

His room didn’t have a clock, because why would it, and his attempts at casting a wandless  _ Tempus _ were unsuccessful, but he had gotten pretty adept at gauging time by the sun, and figured it to be mid-morning by the time he decided he absolutely HAD to leave his room for the loo.

He cracked his door open and peeked into the hall. He wasn’t  _ avoiding _ Harry, but he wasn’t looking to bump into him either. Seeing that the hall was clear, he stepped quickly out of his room and immediately tripped over something large and squishy that had apparently been right outside his door. 

He turned back to inspect the package and immediately recognized the bag that lay on the floor. His heart leapt and he dropped to his knees, scrabbling open the bag and gasping in glee when he spotted familiar clothing. He bit back a swell of nostalgia as he rifled through his old clothes. The fine fabric felt so luxurious; he knew now that he had never fully appreciated it before. 

Slowly it dawned on him that Harry must have procured these for him. He knew bloody well that Hopkins would not have arranged this. He bit his lip as he contemplated what this could mean. Deciding to just shake it off for now, he grabbed some trousers and a shirt and darted to the washroom. 

~

Draco had not seen Harry all morning. He had taken a long, hot shower and dressed in his own clothes for the first time in over a year. By the time he felt remotely human again, he was starving. Harry’s bedroom door was open and a quick glance in proved it to be empty. Draco decided to find his way to the kitchen to look for something to eat. 

He took a few wrong turns, but eventually found his destination. Merlin, this house was dreary. He had no idea why Potter lived here, surely he was rich enough to purchase his own home; he didn't need to keep the handouts given by dead friends. 

Draco decided to start his food search in the fridge. He crossed the dank kitchen and opened it—he didn't expect to find much, but he absolutely didn't expect to find  _ nothing,  _ save for a few butterbeers and a nearly empty, sticky jar of jam. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he closed the fridge and proceeded to check the cupboards. 

He sighed in exasperation when he found that the cupboards held only dry bread and a few tins of beans. Though Draco had not had decent food in quite a while and was therefore not terribly picky anymore, this still seemed pitiful.

Nevertheless, he was hungry, so he pulled down a tin of beans and grabbed a crusty slice. Only then did he realize his predicament—this was a wizard’s kitchen, and he was a seriously handicapped wizard. Without his wand, he had no way to open the tin, or even toast his bread. 

He bit back tears of frustration and sat down at the table to force down the old bread, untoasted and completely void of flavor. He silently cursed Potter for leaving him here alone and unable to even open his own beans, but also thanked Merlin that Potter wasn't here to see his utter helplessness.

A loud, familiar crack of Apparition sounded in the kitchen and startled Draco. He jumped up and turned around, expecting to see Harry, but was instead greeted with the horrendous face of an old house elf. “Kreacher?”

“Master Potter sent word of new servant. He didn’t be mentioning Master Malfoy is the servant.”

“Excuse me, he what?” Draco said as a hot flare of anger burned in his chest.  _ He was no servant. _

“Kreacher is here to be helping Master Malfoy be a better servant. Kreacher hears Master Malfoy has no magic.”

“I have magic, you foul creature, I just don't have a wand. And I  _ will not _ be taking lessons from a house elf.”

“Kreacher knows Master Malfoy has no choice. Kreacher will help.” With that, Kreacher snapped his fingers and the counters filled with all sorts of items that Draco had never seen before. “Master Potter forces Kreacher to find terrible Muggle things. Even no-magic wizard can use Muggle things.” Kreacher looked mockingly at Draco as if daring him to refuse what he clearly needed. 

Draco seethed, “I don’t know what this stuff is Kreacher. Why don’t you just make the bloody food!” 

Kreacher laughed—a dry, whittling noise that scraped down Draco’s nerves—he snapped his fingers again and a pile of books appeared on the table. “Muggles be knowing what to do. Master Malfoy be knowing too.”

Draco clenched his jaw. He felt more murderous now than he had at any point during his time with the Death Eaters, “So tell me,  _ Kreacher, _ ” he bit out, “where do I get the  _ food _ I am to be cooking for Potter.”

Kreacher grinned and Draco clenched his fists. He felt his magic pulsing beneath his skin and felt fairly sure he would be able to hex this loathsome creature, wand or not, but instead he shut his eyes tight and took a few deep breaths. He didn’t think Potter was overly attached to this elf, but he couldn’t be too sure based on his previous record with house elf relations. It wouldn’t do to upset his only barrier to Azkaban so soon. “Well?” he forced out.

“Master Potter signed up for food service. Delivery be coming weekly.” Kreacher grinned again and with another loud  _ crack _ he was gone. 

Draco growled and punched the table, an act he immediately regretted when his knuckles exploded in pain and he realized he had no way to ease it. He had no idea if Potter expected dinner to be ready when he got home from wherever-the-hell-he-was, but Draco was definitely  _ not _ going to be cooking anything for the prat today.

He heard a simultaneous  _ clunk  _ come from the fridge and cupboards and a quick investigation showed him that the first food delivery had been dropped. Still angry and hurting, he grabbed an apple and a block of cheese and stomped back up to his room. 

~*~

“So. He doesn’t suck you in, eh?” Ron hid his smile in a swig from his pint.

Harry glared at him, “It was that or he was going to go back to Azkaban, you prat. What would you have done?” 

“Probably not stalked him down the hall,” said Ron, with a contemplative look on his face. Harry threw a chip at Ron’s face. 

“I haven’t been home all day,” Harry scrubbed his tired face, “I’m kind of scared to go home.” 

Ron laughed, “Mate, you made this bed, you just gotta lay in it now.” Harry blushed and Ron laughed again then drained his pint. He threw a few Sickles on the table, “I’m going home to my beautiful wife, I suggest you do the same.” He cackled as he dodged a hex thrown by Harry and scurried to the pub’s floo. 

Harry sighed and drained his own pint.

~

He stepped into the dark drawing room of Grimmauld and paused, listening for any movement. Hearing nothing, he waved his wand and lit the lamps on the first floor. He moved through the house and still heard nothing. “Malfoy?” No answer.

He decided to check the kitchen first to see if the food delivery service had started correctly. Earlier today he had decided to catch breakfast with Ron at the Ministry and then personally delivered Malfoy’s simple work contract to Hopkins. He had just scrawled the terms he and Malfoy had briefly discussed the night before on a piece of parchment. 

Hopkins had been less than pleased to see Harry again and tried to argue the unprofessional style of the contract. Harry had just shrugged and told him it had been approved by the aurors, so he didn’t see how an enforcer could argue it. Hopkins had nearly turned purple and then venomously said, “I sure hope he doesn’t end up accidentally poisoning you. After all, with no wand I can’t see how he’ll be able to produce anything edible.”

“I’m sure he’ll manage,” Harry said dryly. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

Hopkins grumbled under his breath and pulled out a parchment, “As the employer—and landlord—of a convicted criminal, you are entitled to the terms of his parole, which can be found on this parchment. You are also to be informed that random visits and searches of the criminal’s living space are required and cannot be refused—even by the  _ Saviour _ himself,” Hopkins glared at Harry with barely concealed bitterness. “If he steps one foot out of line he goes back and not even you can save him. I suggest you ensure his utter compliance. Have a nice day, Mr. Potter.” With that, Hopkins had dismissed him. 

Annoyed, Harry gripped the parchment tightly and left the enforcer’s office. He read through the document as he made his way back to the atrium and felt even more disgusted with the Ministry. He made a mental note to meet with Kingsley and then set out to purchase what he needed to accommodate Malfoy’s lack of wand in the kitchen. He also figured he could start a grocery delivery since he didn’t think the food would go to waste anymore.  

He entered the kitchen and the first thing he noticed was that all of the Muggle kitchen appliances he had asked Kreacher to purchase were on the counters, untouched. The second thing he noticed was a sandwich sitting on the table with a corner of parchment sticking out from underneath. He scooted the parchment out and immediately recognized Malfoy’s elegant script:

_ [Potter, I don’t know when you expected your first meal, so here is a sandwich. _

_ ~ D. Malfoy _

_ P.S. - Do not EVER send your house elf to speak to me again or I will not be held responsible for my actions.] _

 

Harry chuckled at the veiled threat. He hadn’t expected the interaction between Malfoy and Kreacher to be pleasant and judging by this note he had been right. He quirked an eye at the sandwich and waved his wand over it, checking for residual magic—it didn’t hurt to be safe. Finding nothing off, he picked it up and took a bite. Cringing, he looked at the sandwich and then sniffed it while chewing slowly and forcing his bite down: apricot jam and roast beef with cheese. Harry shuddered and vanished the sandwich. He wasn’t sure if Malfoy intentionally made it gross, or if he was really that bad at food preparation.

Harry climbed the stairs and paused briefly outside Malfoy’s door. He didn’t have anything in particular to say to him, but he had been gone all day and felt it was rude to not check in. Stiffening his back, he lightly knocked on Malfoy’s door. He waited a few seconds and to his relief he didn’t hear anything so he turned to retreat to the loo when he heard Malfoy’s door open. 

“Potter.” Harry turned back and his heart stuttered. Malfoy was wearing low-slung joggers and a tight, white shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Harry felt himself hardening at the sight of the slender, beautiful man in front of him...of _ Malfoy _ in front of him. He cringed and adjusted his stance so as not to make his ‘little (big) problem’ obvious. “Did you need something?” Malfoy leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. 

Harry bit back a groan, “I see you found your clothes. Kreacher was able to collect them for me...er, for you.”

“Yes, it seems you had Kreacher quite busy today.” 

Harry blushed, “I knew we’d need, ya know,  _ stuff _ since you can’t cook with magic. Er, thanks for the sandwich by the way.”

Malfoy smirked, “You liked it then?” He asked innocently. 

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, “It was certainly creative.” Draco huffed a laugh. “I figured tomorrow I could show you how to use some of the things in the kitchen,” Harry rubbed his neck, “I mean, I don’t expect you to cook every day or anything, but I think you’ll have to do something. Hopkins could stop by any time, apparently.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to narrow his eyes at Harry, “I’m not planning to skive off work, Potter, if that’s what you mean. I know I am here because of your ‘saviour complex’ and all, but I plan to do what I have to so I can finish this year and try to build my life back.”

“That’s not—I mean, yeah I wanted to help, but it’s not a ‘saviour’ thing. It just wasn’t…”

Draco held his hand up to stop Harry’s stuttering, “Nevermind. Do you need anything else? I’d like to retire for the night.” 

“Erm, no. Just wanted to let you know about tomorrow.”

“Great. See you in the morning, Potter.” With that, Draco shut his door, leaving Harry standing alone in the hall, his cock still harder than it had any right to be.

Harry sighed and headed to the loo. He needed a hot shower and a nice wank for his traitorous cock.

~*~

Draco stayed awake the majority of the night poring over the cookbooks Kreacher had left in the kitchen. He would show Harry that he wasn’t a helpless git; he would surprise him with a giant breakfast—that would definitely show the prat.

The next morning he woke up super early and successfully located the ‘toaster’ and a pan that looked the same as the one in the picture of scrambled eggs in one of the books. He also found a pointy thing that he was sure he could use to smush the juice out of an orange. He could already taste the victory of pulling one over on Potter. 

Thirty minutes later, he was no longer as confident. He had squished the juice out, but now everything was sticky. He hated being sticky. The eggs were so much more fragile than he had imagined and he had already somehow managed to burn half a loaf of bread. The bloody books made it sound so easy! 

A soft chuckle from behind made him spin around. His chest did an odd little flip-expansion thing at the sight of Harry, hair mussed from sleep, t-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders as he leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, a crooked smile on his handsome face.  _ Handsome face!? _

“What are you doing up!?” Draco screeched out.

“Funnily enough, the smell of my house burning down will wake me up.” Still smiling, Harry pushed off the door frame and approached Draco, “I’m impressed.” 

Draco barked out a laugh, “Impressed with burnt toast and crunchy eggs?”

“And fresh juice,” Harry said, taking a large swig. His face twisted and for one horrified moment Draco thought he may have killed him. Harry forced down an awkward swallow and then spit out three seeds. “It doesn’t get fresher than that.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, “Potter, this is humiliating enough without your commentary.”

“I wasn’t kidding, I am impressed. I thought you didn’t know how to use any of this stuff. Wait. How  _ do _ you know how to use it?”

“I’m not daft, Potter. These Muggle things are very self-explanatory,” Draco raised his brows in challenge.

“Hm. Alright. Well, anyway, thanks for breakfast.” Harry  _ Accio’d _ two plates from the cupboard and dished out some eggs and grabbed two slices of the slightly less charred toast. 

“You don’t have to eat that; I certainly don’t want to.”

“Don’t be a wanker, I’m sure it’s fine.” Harry moved to the table and plopped down while Draco remained standing awkwardly by the sink. “Join me.”

“So we’re those people now, huh?” Draco intoned as he slowly sat down across from Harry. 

“Seems it.”

~

Harry left shortly after breakfast with a promise to pop in for lunch. Draco didn’t have much of anything to occupy his time as he didn’t feel comfortable roaming Muggle London and, anyhow, all he really wanted to do was speak to his mother. He made a cup of tea and settled into a cushy chair in the drawing room to further study the cookbooks. 

A loud  _ whoosh _ startled Draco awake, he jerked and the book he had been reading clunked to the floor.

“I see you have been well entertained,” Harry laughed as he stepped out of the floo. Draco stood and stretched; his shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of pale skin with a hint of a defined vee leading to...Harry coughed and looked anywhere but at Draco. 

“I don’t recall falling asleep. I don’t have lunch prepared.” Draco looked oddly worried. 

“Relax. This isn’t a 24/7 gig. I’ll go whip us up some toasties. Do you mind making us some tea?”

“Ah, sure. A-are you positive you want to make the toasties, I can do it.”

“Malfoy. Relax.” Harry briefly touched his shoulder and then continued on to the kitchen. 

Feeling strangely pleased, Draco followed Harry to the kitchen.

He paused at the threshold. Harry was pulling all the accoutrements needed for a toastie from various cupboards and the fridge while whistling a cheery tune. The scene was incredibly domestic and corny and surreal and...wonderful. 

Draco fought back a sudden wave of melancholy. He didn’t deserve to feel wonderful, he didn’t deserve to have such a cushy posting, and he definitely didn’t deserve to have Harry Potter cooking for him. But here he was, and there was Harry Potter, whistling a cheery tune while making him a toastie. He shook his head and moved to start the kettle.

~*~

A little over a week had passed since Draco had moved into Grimmauld Place. In that time he had managed to make an incredibly dry roast with unintentionally crunchy potatoes, a curry that was inedibly spicy (though Harry had seconds), and had even managed to pry open a tin of beans to dump over some slightly less burnt toast. 

Tonight he was trying something that he thought would be simple, but that was actually proving to be a real pain in the arse. Harry had mentioned in passing one evening while they sat and talked over tea that he really loved a simple shepherd’s pie. That’s what he had called it: simple. Draco had not cut so many things at one time before and his hands and back ached. 

Harry had popped up to Scotland today to help McGonagall with something at Hogwarts. Draco was pretty sure Harry had told him what he was helping with this morning while he made breakfast, but Draco had been concentrating on not burning the bacon at the time and hadn’t paid him any mind. 

Draco checked the clock that Harry had set up in the kitchen for him and saw that he still had a few hours before Harry was due back. The book said the shepherd’s pie only had to bake for about an hour, so he surely had time to take a break. Just as he settled at the kitchen table with a steaming cuppa, he heard a loud, clanging bell begin to ring. It was not a noise he had heard here before, but it sounded similar to the old front door system at the Manor, so he climbed the stairs to the main landing. 

The bell continued to clang as Draco stood at the front door. He was a little hesitant to open it; everyone who would be coming to visit Harry would use the floo. Steeling his nerve, he opened the door and bit back a groan, “Hopkins.”

“‘Ello Mr. Malfoy. Invite me in?” Hopkins grinned, but the expression dripped with hostility. Draco made no move to open the door wider and invite the man in. Hopkins stepped closer and even though he was more than a head shorter than Draco, he had at least 5 stone on him. “Remember the terms, boy. Your refusal means Azkaban.”

Draco clenched his jaw and stepped out of the doorway to let Hopkins pass. “What exactly are you here for?” Draco asked. 

“I’m doing my job. Is Mr. Potter here? I’d like a word.” 

“He’s...out at the moment.” Hopkins turned slowly and this time his grin was genuine, but his eyes held too many similarities to the Dark Lord. Draco shivered involuntarily, “He’ll be back at any moment, he’s just popped out on a quick errand.”

“Then we must make the most of our time, yeah?  _ Incarcerous!” _

Draco’s wrists and feet were bound instantly and he toppled to his knees, “What the fuck are you doing!?”

_ “Silencio!” _ Hopkins used the toe of his boot and forcefully nudged Draco’s shoulder, sending him sprawling across the floor on his back. “That  _ fucking  _ wanker, Potter, thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he fought in a war. Bollocks! He had no business stepping in and snatching you out of my hands!”

Draco’s heart was pounding as Hopkins paced above him. He looked around wildly to see if he could find anything that would help him. He had heard that most wizards, in times of stress, could do amazing feats of wandless magic—but his panic was so great he didn’t think he would be able to channel anything. Suddenly, Hopkins had dropped to his knees and was in Draco’s face. His breath was hot and rancid as it invaded Draco’s senses. 

“What did you do to him to make him save your weak, sorry arse?” Hopkins sneered cruelly and looked Draco up and down, “Or was it that you gave him your arse, you little poofter. I bet that’s it. You’re the famous Harry Potter’s live-in slag.” Hopkins spit in Draco’s face and pushed up from the floor, “You make me fucking sick.” 

Draco fought back tears. He was not going to let this excuse of a man break him. He just needed to find a way to protect himself long enough to convince Hopkins that Harry was coming soon so he would leave. He rolled himself into a sitting position and started scooting away from Hopkins, who was currently fiddling in his coat pockets. 

Hopkins turned suddenly and caught Draco trying to get away. He laughed and pointed his wand at Draco once more, “ _ Petrificus Totalus!” _

“Don’t worry, Mr. Malfoy. I’m not going to hurt you. Much.” With that, Hopkins kicked Draco hard in the ribs. An audible crack filled the hall as at least two ribs fractured under the blow. Draco couldn’t move or speak, but on the inside he was screaming. A solitary tear forced itself out of one immobile eye. 

“That was for being an entitled maggot. But no matter, it’s just a bit of fun. The real reason I stopped by is this pile of letters you’ve been hoarding.” Hopkins pulled a stuffed envelope out of his pocket, “This is what everyone will believe I found in your room—all the proof they need that you’ve been communicating with other prematurely released Death Eaters and trying to get the war started up again. And this,” he produced a shoddy wand from another pocket, “is proof that you are also harboring dangerous contraband. Tsk, tsk, Mr. Malfoy, don’t you know this will get you back in Azkaban... _for_ _life_?”  

_ “Expelliarmus! Finite Incantatum! Incarcerous!”  _

Draco’s body relaxed and he instantly curled into a ball, clutching his ribs. A heavy thud next to him vibrated the floor and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Hopkins had landed next to him, bound tightly in ropes coiled down his entire body.

“You fucking dodgy fucktwat!” Harry ran across the drawing room and into the foyer. He flicked his wand again and Hopkins was lifted from the ground and thrown against the nearest wall, “You don’t know what you’ve just done.” Harry advanced on Hopkins, a near murderous look in his eye. 

Hopkins looked scared, but not scared enough. “ _ Sectumsempra,”  _ Harry whispered with deadly accurate results.

A deep gash appeared across Hopkins’s left cheek and blood immediately began to pour from the wound. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!? Release me instantly! Do you know what kind of trouble you’ll be in for treating an enforcer this way!?”

Harry seemed possessed. He was shaking, but his hands and voice were dangerously steady. He lifted his wand once again, but a groan from Draco caught his attention. Hopkins was still blabbering, so Harry shot a silencing charm at him and turned to Draco.

“Draco! Are you ok? What hurts? I’m going to take you to Mungo’s, do you think you can Apparate?” Draco was paler than usual and still curled in a position that was protecting his core.

His eyes were shut tight, but he managed to speak through gritted teeth, “No Mungo’s. I-I’m fine.”

“Draco, you’re  _ not _ fine.” Harry was beginning to panic. He quickly looked around the foyer, hoping that maybe Hermione had appeared to fix everything. Of course, she wasn’t there. “Can you stand? You have to get checked out by a healer.”

“I said NO, Potter.” Draco pushed himself into a sitting position, “I’ll be fine once the pain subsides,” he said with a hitch in his breath.

Harry looked conflicted for a moment and then raised his wand once more, “ _ Expecto Patronum,”  _ his stag materialized and pranced in front of him, “Ron, there’s been a situation. I need you urgently at Grimmauld. Bring your partner.” With the message received, the stag bound through the front door and was off to find Ron. 

Harry looked back at Hopkins, who was still bound, silenced, and leaned against the wall. At least the bleeding was slowing down. Harry considered hitting him with another curse before Ron arrived, but he managed to control his impulse and, instead, knelt next to Draco.

“How can I help?” he asked.

Draco was taking shallow breaths and was still much too pale. “I believe he cracked a few of my ribs. I know a spell to fix it. I can tell you how to do it.” Draco grimaced as he shifted on the floor; he needed to get his shirt off so Harry could target the correct area, but it was entirely too painful to lift his arms. 

“I can’t do a healing spell, there’s too much that can go wrong. I’m going to call a healer to come here if you won’t go to one.” 

Draco was losing patience, “Look Potter, I have a lot of experience fixing cracked ribs. I don’t need a bloody healer. Now help me get my shirt off, you’ll have to cut it.”

“What?” Harry gulped.

“Cut it off, I can’t lift my arms.”

“Wha-I don’t…”

“Either cut my shirt, or give me your fucking wand. I am in pain and would really like to resolve this.”

To Draco’s surprise, Harry immediately handed over his wand. Draco murmured a few words and his shirt split cleanly down the middle before he shrugged it off, grimacing the whole while. Draco heard Harry gasp at the sight of the large bruise that was still blooming across his chest. A few more murmured words and the bruise began subsiding until it was completely gone and Draco was able to take a deep breath. 

Harry looked as if he was going to say something, but at that moment Ron and another Auror Draco didn’t recognize came crashing through the floo. At the sight of them, Hopkins began thrashing around.

“Harry, you ok!?” Ron said, slightly breathless. His partner immediately noticed Hopkins thrashing against the wall and moved to assess his condition. 

“Hopkins nearly killed Draco. I need you to arrest him,” Harry said calmly. 

“I-what? Malfoy looks fine.” Ron came and crouched next to Harry and Draco on the foyer floor. 

“He does now. Lucky I finished with McGonagall early. I walked in on Hopkins trying to frame Draco after he had immobilized and beat him. You can have the memory if you need it, Ron. It fucking happened and Hopkins needs to pay!” Harry had worked himself back into a state of agitation. Draco remained still on the floor, lightly holding his ribs. Though his spell had repaired them, the area was still tender. 

Ron looked over to Draco, “Did it happen as Harry says?” Draco didn’t yet trust himself to speak. There were so many emotions warring in his chest at the moment, so he merely nodded. 

He never expected Hopkins to go so far, but he was used to people being the worst version of themselves, so he wasn’t surprised. He  _ was _ surprised, however, at how angry Potter was on his behalf. It also had not escaped his notice that Potter had slipped into calling him ‘Draco’ instead of ‘Malfoy’ and had handed over his wand to him, apparently without a second thought. His chest tightened at the feeling this discovery elicited. 

At that moment, Ron’s partner released the  _ Silencio _ Harry had placed on Hopkins and the man immediately began screaming, “That fucking pillock bastard shithead wanker! He cut me! I could have bled out! I am an enforcer and he should be tried to the very extent of the law! He is aiding in the delinquency of a felon! He willingly handed a wand to him! I saw it all! I could have been killed!” Grimacing, Ron waved his wand and and the yelling ceased. 

“We’ll need you both to come down to the Ministry. It’s not easy putting an enforcer away, so we’ll need all the evidence we can get. Malfoy, get dressed and we can go now.” A quick wave of his wand showed the time to be about 3:00 in the afternoon, “We may have time to wrap this up by a decent time.” 

“I need to put a few things away in the kitchen before we go,” Draco said.

Harry extended his hand toward Draco in an offer to help him off the floor, “You go grab a shirt and I’ll take care of things in the kitchen.” Draco noticed that Harry’s face was flushed again. He wasn’t sure if he was still angry, or if this meant something different. 

Draco reached up to grab Harry’s hand and immediately found himself launched into the air before slamming into a solid wall. Startled, he looked slightly down and found himself inches away from Harry’s shocked green eyes, his cheeks blazing brighter than ever. Draco’s hand had gripped tightly to Harry’s bicep and with a jolt of pleasure he noted how incredibly firm Harry was. “Merlin Harry, you didn’t have to throw me,” Draco whispered teasingly. 

“You’re so much lighter than I thought,” Harry breathed back. 

Neither man had made any effort to create space between them and Draco was positive he just saw Harry’s eyes flick to his lips. To test his developing theory, Draco gently sucked in his bottom lip, biting it slowly. He watched as Harry’s eyes widened, studying every minute movement, while his hand, which had been lightly cupped around Draco’s bare side, gripped him hard.

A loud throat clearing broke the tension between the two men and Harry jumped back as if he had been burned. Maybe he had, Draco certainly felt like he was on fire. 

Harry turned and ran down the stairs to the kitchen; a moment later his wand skidded across the foyer and down the stairs as well. Draco turned to look at Ron, who was smirking at him. He had never seen the Weasel so in control and comfortable with himself and he had to admit it looked good on him. “I’ll be back momentarily,” Draco murmured, and then headed up the stairs to his bedroom. 

~

At just after 8:00 later that same evening, Harry and Draco sat wearily down to a hearty shepherd’s pie. Once they had finished at the Ministry—which thankfully went quickly due to Harry and Ron’s status—they had returned home and finished preparing the pie together.

Most of the ingredients had been prepped and cooked prior to Hopkins’s unfortunate arrival, so Draco watched nervously as Harry took the first bite. Harry closed his eyes and leaned back, chewing slowly. 

Draco’s heart sank—it looked like the pie was terrible. He was about to push his own plate away when Harry swallowed and opened his eyes, his gaze landing intensely on Draco, “This is, without a doubt, the most successful meal you’ve made.” 

Draco blushed at Harry’s words and tried a small bite. He was pleasantly surprised at the richness of the gravy and creaminess of the potatoes, “Wow. You’re not kidding. I did great.” Draco smiled at Harry, who barked out a hearty laugh. They both fell into silence as they continued eating. 

Once the plates were empty, Draco stood to take them to the sink. Harry jumped up, “I’ve got this, will you make us some tea?”

Biting back a smile, Draco walked to the kettle and began the now-familiar routine of making them tea. Harry made quick work of the dishes and they retired to the drawing room. 

“I’m glad Hopkins is going to Azkaban, he deserves it.” 

Draco shuddered, “Azkaban is a horrid place. Perhaps he should have just been stripped of his title.”

Harry looked at Draco in shock, “Draco...he was going to send you back there for life. On purpose. He hurt you. I-I don’t understand why you feel like he should have gotten less.”

Draco sighed, “I suppose you are right. Though, I still don’t wish that place on anyone.”

Harry moved from the chair he was in and sat next to Draco on the sofa, “Are you ok? I mean, like, do you still hurt?” Harry paused and stared into the fire. Draco studied his sharp jaw and slight stubble, he itched to reach out and trace it with his fingers. His reverie was broken by Harry speaking again, “Ron wouldn’t let me watch your whole interaction with Hopkins. He said it wouldn’t do me any good.” Harry clenched his jaw, obviously fighting back another wave of anger. 

Draco could no longer contain his need, he reached out and trailed a finger across Harry’s taut jaw. Harry shivered and slowly turned his head toward Draco, who was now cupping Harry’s entire cheek. Harry swallowed and leaned in towards Draco. Their lips brushed together and Draco felt his entire world tilt. Harry’s scent and warmth surrounded him and without realizing it he slid his hand to the back of Harry’s head, threading his fingers into his hair, and deepened their kiss.Harry lay his hand on Draco’s shoulder and then began tenderly rubbing up and down his arm. 

Suddenly, Draco pushed away from Harry and stood quickly. Dazed, Harry looked up at him in confusion. “I-I can’t…” Draco stuttered out before running from the room and up the stairs. Harry leaned over and propped his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and, to no one in particular, said, “What the fuck was that?” 

~

The next morning, Harry awoke to the scent of cinnamon filling the air. Curious, he quickly dressed and hurried down to the kitchen. He found Draco icing a tray of enormous cinnamon sticky buns. The aroma was warm and inviting and Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, savouring the feeling of contentment that washed over him.

When he opened his eyes he found Draco had turned and was looking at him curiously. Harry grinned and walked up to Draco; he wrapped his arm around Draco’s waist and leaned in to kiss him. Draco dodged the kiss and only then did Harry realize how stiff he was. Harry immediately dropped his arm and stepped back, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry, Potter. I can’t risk my job,” Draco waved his hand in between the two of them, “for whatever this is.” Harry opened his mouth to object and was hushed by Draco. “I miss my mother and the only chance I’ll have to see her again is to finish this year with no more incidences. I’m still not convinced that the mess with Hopkins won’t come back to haunt me and I simply can’t have anything else happen. I must be a model parolee.”

“Don’t start with the ‘Potter’ shit, Draco. You know I wouldn’t do anything to compromise your parole, regardless of what happens between us. Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

“Who ever said this was my happiness?” Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, “I didn’t ask for this job and I didn’t ask for you to-to come on to me.” Draco raised his nose in the air in indignation.

“You came onto me!” Harry shrieked. “I mean, I was pretty sure it was a mutual thing,” Harry sulked. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I am your employee nothing can be considered mutual.” Draco turned back to the tray of sticky buns and placed one on a plate, “I’m going to retire to my room for a bit, can you handle lunch on your own?”

Feeling hurt and a little angry, Harry replied, “Don’t bother for dinner either, I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” As if to add insult to injury, Harry wandlessly levitated a bun to himself and turned on his heel, stomping out of the kitchen. Draco heard the floo flare only moments later. 

Harry was true to his word and didn’t return to Grimmauld for the rest of the day and well into the night. Draco finally went to bed around midnight; he had hoped Harry would be home by then so he could explain a little better that it wasn’t that he didn’t want Harry, he just wanted him free of his current circumstances.

~

A loud bang startled Draco awake. He glanced at the clock on his bedside: 3:00 am. Another bang had him rolling out of bed to investigate the noise. He snuck silently down the stairs; he still heard a lot of noise coming from the drawing room and assumed Harry was pissed out of his mind and possibly destroying things, so he didn’t feel keen on surprising him.

As Draco approached the drawing room he heard an unfamiliar voice and froze. Unfortunately, he was close enough that snippets of the conversation drifted out into the hall:  _ You want me to suck that cock? Fuck you’re big. I’m going to suck you dry. _

Draco wanted to leave, he really did, but his traitorous feet carried him forward and into the entrance of the drawing room. He saw Harry sprawled across a chair, his trousers and pants pushed down and a dark blonde head bobbing up and down his cock. Both men looked completely sloshed, but that did nothing to soothe the sharp pain in Draco’s chest. Clearly he meant nothing to Harry. 

Draco must have made a noise, or Harry felt his stare, because suddenly his eyes popped open and locked immediately with Draco’s. Harry cried out and shoved the bloke off of his cock and onto his back on the floor. The unknown man yelled out in indignation, “What the fuck!?” 

Harry jumped up and, stumbling, started toward Draco, his wet and rapidly softening cock gleaming in the firelight. Draco held his stare for a moment longer and then turned and ran back up the stairs and locked himself into his room. Harry followed shortly after, banging on his door and asking to be let in. The bloke he had brought home also followed, but was yelling at Harry about being a cheating arsehole. 

Draco huddled under his covers and allowed himself to cry. He was grateful that Harry was too pissed to remember he was a wizard and could easily unlock the door. After a few minutes, Harry seemed to give up. The bloke was still yelling and Draco knew they were leaving when the volume finally decreased. Draco heard the front door open and close and the house was silent again. 

Tonight he would cry. Tomorrow he would find a new job.

~*~

Harry woke up heaving. His head was pounding and his vision was blurry. His entire body hurt and he couldn’t immediately identify where he was. Feeling all around him, he located his previously abandoned glasses and slipped them on. He looked around in confusion until he realized he was in the hallway outside his bedroom. 

The realization of his whereabouts triggered his memory from the night before and he jumped up, a move he immediately regretted as he bent over and wretched on the floor. He had fucked up...bad. He needed to speak to Draco. 

He had apparently fallen asleep outside Draco’s bedroom door after he had kicked the Muggle bloke he had picked up at the bar out of the house. He only now noticed that the door to Draco’s room was open. Harry slowly walked in, “Draco?” 

He looked around and his stomach dropped. Most of Draco’s things were gone. Harry ran out of the room and down the stairs, tripping and sliding down the last five. A quick look around the ground level proved it to be empty. Harry dashed down the second set of stairs to the kitchen, forcing back bile as it rose in his throat and hoping against all odds that Draco would be there. 

The kitchen was empty. Harry looked around wildly and saw a box of cereal with a piece of parchment underneath. He snatched the paper up and read hastily:

_ _

_ [Potter, This breakfast is the last meal I will provide as your personal cook. I will be seeking alternate employment today. Please do not contact me. _

_ ~ D. Malfoy] _

Harry stared at the note in horror, then promptly bent over and emptied his stomach one more time.

~

Draco had managed to find his way from Grimmauld to the Leaky. He had asked no less than five Muggles for directions, but it had turned out to be a fairly quick walk. He entered the Leaky and looked around. It had only been a few weeks since he had stayed here, hungry and stressed out of his mind, but it already felt like a lifetime ago. 

Draco walked up to the bar, “Hello, Tom. Could I get a tea?” 

“Mr. Malfoy! I wondered what happened to you. Figured you’d been sent back.”

“Call me Draco, please. I was nearly sent back, but I...found employment at the last minute.” Draco’s head dropped as his chest clenched in a brief flash of pain. 

Tom knew the look of a man in turmoil and made the decision to switch out the tea for a little brandy. When he placed it on the bar Draco looked up in confusion, but Tom gave him a knowing look and he accepted the brandy, sipping it tentatively. Tom remained quiet; in his experience a silent barkeep was the best barkeep. 

“It turns out my employment is not going to work out after all. Do you know anyone hiring?” Draco said this to his brandy. Tom waited. “I could even work here. I have some cooking experience now, and I’ve always been able to wash up.” Draco finally looked up and made eye contact with Tom. 

“It seems to me Mr. M- Draco, that something else is going on. What about the job didn’t work out?”

“I don’t want to talk about that. I can’t go back and that is final. I have some coins, I can rent a room here for a bit. There is some shuffling going on in the enforcer department so I don’t have a parole advisor yet. I have time to find something else.”

“You’re a smart lad, I don’t see you walking out on a job.” Draco threw back the rest of the glass of brandy, grimacing as it burned his esophagus. “You’re heartsick,” Tom said matter-of-factly as he poured more brandy into the empty glass. “Maybe you ought to just rest today and reassess everything in the morning. Your old room is available. I’ll have tea service and more brandy brought up.”

“I don’t deserve you Tom.” Draco mumbled as he grabbed his refreshed glass of brandy and started up the stairs to his room. 

~ 

“Ron!” Harry burst into Ron’s office, scaring his partner half to death, but Ron didn’t even flinch. He was much more accustomed to Harry’s passionate moods. 

“Wow, Mate, rough night?” Ron took in Harry’s disheveled clothing and wilder-than-normal hair. He also smelled of alcohol and...vomit? Ron looked to his partner, “How about you go grab us a round of,” Ron took in Harry’s look again, “coffees. Strong ones.” His partner jumped on the opportunity to leave and practically ran out of the office. “I don’t know why no one likes taking on the new guys, they’re fun to have around,” Ron joked. Harry was now pacing in front of his desk and didn’t acknowledge Ron. He sighed, “Harry, sit. What happened?”

“I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I was upset that he didn’t want me to kiss him again and I sulked and then I drank and then I brought a fucking bloke home! RON WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!? He saw my fucking willy flop out of some rando’s mouth. Oh my GOD.” Harry finally collapsed on the sofa in Ron’s office, his head in his hands. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron murmured. 

“I have to fix this, Ron. I-I think I  _ like _ like him.” Harry looked more miserable than Ron had ever seen him. 

“Ok. What can I do to help?”

~

Draco had fallen asleep after downing a few more glasses of brandy. He woke up to a pounding noise. At first, he thought it was in his head, but then he realized it was his door. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. 

“Draco, please! I need to speak with you.” Harry’s pleading voice drifted through the door. 

Draco groaned again, “Go away, Potter! I told you not to contact me!”

“Draco we need to talk this out. I’m sorry! I messed up so badly, but I want to make it up to you.”

Draco growled and rolled out of bed, he stomped across the room and flung open his door, “Get in here you wanker, the whole inn doesn’t need to know our business,” he said crossly. 

Harry quickly entered before Draco could change his mind, “Draco, come home.”

“Did you lose your entire brain last night? That is not my home. My home is not with you.”

“I don’t have an excuse. I am a bloody idiot, just please, let me make it up to you. I have a surprise at ho...at Grimmauld.” 

“Is the surprise your dick up some bloke’s arse?” Draco spit out.

Harry closed his eyes and grimaced, “I will do whatever it takes to gain back your trust. I am so sorry I hurt you. Please come back with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please. At least for tonight. I arranged something for you. It’s a little time-sensitive though. If you come with me now, I promise I’ll bring you back here whenever you say to.” 

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine.” 

“Side-along?” Harry questioned, holding out his arm. Draco gingerly placed his hand loosely on Harry’s arm—enough to not get splinched, not enough to indicate any level of forgiveness. One familiar pull-and-spin sensation later and Draco dizzily found himself in the drawing room of Grimmauld. 

“Draco!” 

Draco’s eyes widened at the familiar voice. He spun around and burst into tears as his mother came running across the room and embraced him. “Draco, my darling, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been so worried.” His mother stroked his head soothingly as they remained in a tight embrace, crying and whispering to each other. 

Wiping his tears away, Draco looked up and made brief eye contact with Potter as he slipped out of the drawing room to give them some privacy. 

About an hour later, Harry and Kreacher entered the drawing room. Harry lightly cleared his throat, “Mrs. Malfoy, I’m sorry, but it’s time for you to go back.”

“No!” Draco yelled out; it hadn’t been long enough.

“It’s ok, love, I’m just going back to the Manor. Mr. Potter has assured me we can meet as often as time allows. I must get back before the inspection though.” Mrs. Malfoy kissed Draco’s forehead and then stood and held her hand out to Kreacher, who grabbed it and Disapparated them away.

Draco stared at the empty space for a little while, then turned to Harry, who was still standing awkwardly in the room, “How?”

“Elves don’t have the same restrictions as witches and wizards. Ron helped me get a hold of the inspection schedule for her house arrest and Kreacher was able to Apparate in and out of the security wards placed on the Manor. As long as she is there for each inspection, she can come here as often as you want her to. I really am sorry, Draco. That bloke meant nothing, I—”

Harry was interrupted by Draco quickly crossing the room and grabbing his head with shaking hands, pulling him in for a searing kiss that expressed so much emotion it took Harry’s breath away. The mood shifted when Draco’s tongue sought entrance and Harry eagerly opened his mouth to allow it. Draco deepened the kiss and Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him tight against his body. Draco ran his hands through Harry’s hair, lightly tugging. Harry groaned and involuntarily pressed his growing cock into Draco’s. Draco moaned and pulled back from the kiss; he presented his neck and Harry greedily sucked and nibbled. 

Harry walked Draco back toward the sofa and pushed him down onto it, then lowered himself to his knees, “Draco, I don’t ever want to hurt you again.” Harry tenderly kissed the bulge along Draco’s trousers. Draco bucked up into the touch and threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry leaned into the touch while he unbuttoned Draco’s trousers and gently pulled out his cock. 

“Fuck, Draco, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered before engulfing his cock to the root. Draco cried out and thrust into Harry’s hot mouth. Harry moaned and the vibrations drove Draco wild. In a frenzy, Draco clutched Harry’s hair and fucked his mouth. It was fast, hot, wet, wild, and oh so perfect. Draco looked down at the beautiful black head that was so eagerly sucking him off and then suddenly Harry’s eyes flicked up and bright green met stormy grey. It was too intense and Draco rolled his head back, coming hard into Harry’s waiting mouth.

Draco’s eyes remained closed as he leaned back and caught his breath. He heard Harry’s breath quicken and the tell-tale squelch of wanking. He opened his eyes in time to see Harry stretch back, propping himself on one hand while his other expertly worked his cock until he spurt all over the sofa and Draco. This was definitely a better memory to be seared into his brain than the wet, wobbly dick of the day before. 

Harry and Draco stared at each other for a moment longer, neither wanting to bring reality back into their bubble just yet. Finally, Draco spoke, “I’ll stay. But this can’t happen again. Not until I’m no longer your servant.” He leaned down and kissed Harry deeply one more time, then stood and buttoned his trousers and went upstairs to take a shower and move himself back into his room. 

~*~

A few more weeks passed in relative calm. Draco continued to improve his cooking and had even begun teaching his mother some Muggle cooking techniques during her daily visits to Grimmauld. Harry was usually out the door early each morning, but always popped back in for lunch and was always home in time for dinner. 

True to his word, Draco had not allowed intimacy between them again…well, at least not  _ explicit _ intimacy. He couldn’t help it if they spent most evenings cuddled on the sofa in the drawing room, sipping tea and reading, or talking late into the night. Oddly though, Harry always changed the subject when Draco enquired about his day’s activities.

Early one morning, Draco woke up and headed down to the kitchen to start breakfast. However, Harry was already there, placing fresh-cut fruit and yogurt on the table. “Oh good, you’re awake! I made breakfast, and I have a gift for you!” 

“Why do you have a gift for me?” Draco asked as he sat down and dished out some fruit. 

“It’s your three month anniversary of living here, and you’ve worked so hard I figured you could use a bit of a break.” Harry handed a small card to Draco, who opened it and read briefly, then looked at Harry questioningly. “It’s a great wizard spa up in Scotland. That card is a portkey that will get you there and back. It’s timed to have you back for dinner, which I will be providing today.” Harry smiled broadly, obviously pleased with himself. 

“But why?” 

Harry sighed, “Draco, just take it and enjoy yourself. I’ve seen you looking at your nails in disgust and fussing with your hair for way too long every morning. You are scheduled for a massage, a haircut, a manicure, a soak, and anything else of your choosing.”

“What about my mom’s visit today? I won’t be here.”

“It’s ok, she knows. I’ve sent someone to the Manor to treat her today too.” Harry smiled smugly again.

“Merlin, Harry. This...this is too much.”

“It isn’t. Look. I was just kind of going through the motions of living before you came back into my life. I mean, sure, I had fun and I had friends, but…there was always an emptiness. You filled that, and...I want to thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You literally saved me from Azkaban. I can’t-”

“Take it, Draco. That is the only thanks I need.” Draco sighed and nodded his head. “Great, now eat up, the portkey activates in thirty minutes.” Draco rolled his eyes and, smiling, tucked into his breakfast.

~

Draco could not remember a time in which he had been more relaxed. He sipped a flute of champagne while waiting for the portkey to activate and take him home. His hair looked great, his nails looked pristine, his skin was glowing and he was seriously considering lifting his intimacy ban for tonight. He didn’t have much to offer Harry, but he would gladly offer himself. 

An attendant stepped into the room to take his glass and give him a thirty-second portkey warning. Draco smiled as the portkey activated—he couldn’t wait to tell Harry how much he enjoyed his day. 

The portkey dropped him into the drawing room of Grimmauld and Draco was immediately hit with the most glorious aroma. He headed straight for the kitchen and gasped when he entered. Harry had set the table with candles and fresh cut flowers and was dishing out what Draco recognized as his favorite meal of all time—coq au vin. There was also a long, thin box nicely wrapped and sitting next to Draco’s place at the table. 

Harry turned toward him and Draco was speechless, he was wearing nicer clothes than he ever had before and he looked bloody brilliant. “Did you enjoy your day?” Harry asked. 

Draco gaped at him, “Yes...but, what is all of this?”

“It turns out we have more to celebrate.”

“How did you know my favorite meal?” There was so much for Draco to take in, he was having trouble keeping it all sorted. Dumbfounded, Draco made his way to the table and sat down.

“I spoke with your mum. Coq au vin eh, so...you’ve always liked cock?” Harry sniggered and Draco blushed. 

“Harry James Potter, that is not appropriate!” Draco grabbed the wine glass in front of him and lifted it to his lips, “But yes, I’ve always  _ loved _ cock.” Draco smirked as Harry choked on the sip of wine he had just taken.

Draco took a bite of the chicken and moaned, “Merlin, Potter, you should have been cooking all this time.” Harry smiled at him and nibbled on his own portion. “Anyhow, what did you mean we have more to celebrate?”

“Open your present.” Harry said, indicating the wrapped parcel at Draco’s side. Draco had been pointedly ignoring the package, but he had to admit his curiosity was raging out of control. He eagerly snatched up the package and ripped the paper off, then flipped the box open. His mouth dropped in shock.

There, sitting on a bed of crushed velvet, was his hawthorne wand. Draco traced its length with his finger, feeling the magic swell around him. He closed his eyes and savoured the feeling of wholeness it brought him. When he opened his eyes, Harry was staring at him, his eyes smoldering in the candlelight. “What does this mean?” he asked Harry.

“I’ve been petitioning your case at the Ministry. Your record and the terms set by Hopkins were reviewed and deemed unnecessarily harsh by the Wizengamot. They considered your time already served and felt it was enough. You’re released from parole. You’re completely free. Completely free to do what you want…”

Draco laughed out loud and lunged across the table, tackling Harry to the hard ground of the kitchen. Harry lay on his back and Draco straddled him, “You and your fucking saviour complex,” he said, then ducked down and kissed Harry deeply. Harry reached up and grabbed Draco’s arse, kneading the firm flesh. 

Weeks of tension released and Harry and Draco both groaned in abandon, grinding their clothed cocks against each other as their lips and teeth clashed and slipped. Draco had brought his wand with him when he lunged over the table and he gratefully grabbed it now, pointing it between the two of them and vanishing their clothes. 

The sudden, hot contact of their cocks meeting made them both gasp and buck, rutting against each other like horny teens in a broom cupboard. Draco attacked Harry’s neck, biting and sucking until it was mottled with proof of his desire. Harry had continued kneading Draco’s arse and slowly worked his way inward. He paused on the threshold of Draco’s entrance and looked at him entreatingly.

Draco answered by pressing himself onto Harry, allowing his digit to slip into the hot opening. Draco’s back straightened as he sat up and sank further onto Harry’s finger. He wiggled back and forth, his cock bobbing enticingly in front of him. He glanced down at Harry, “More. I want you to take me, Harry.” 

Harry held out his hand and his wand came flying into it. He cast a cushioning charm below him and then a lubrication charm. Draco groaned as Harry added a second finger to his entrance. It stung, but the burn made him feel more alive than he had in a long while. Draco whined and forced himself further onto Harry’s digits, “More, Harry,” he gasped. 

Harry couldn’t deny him any longer. He nudged Draco’s side, indicating for him to lift up slightly, and when he did he positioned his cock at Draco’s entrance. Draco held himself poised above Harry, their eyes locked together. Draco smiled wickedly and then sank down in one clean motion. He paused briefly to allow his body to adjust and then started a brutal pace. 

Harry clutched his hips and helped him bounce up and down; he was torn between watching his own cock breach Draco’s tight entrance, watching Draco’s leaking cock bouncing and slapping against his stomach, or staring into Draco’s completely vulnerable and trusting gaze. He tried to take it all in, until Draco began squeezing his muscles on every downstroke and Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck, Draco,  _ fuck!  _ Come for me, I can’t hold on much longer. I want to see you come.” Harry bit out through gritted teeth.

Draco slowed his pace and grabbed his cock, squeezing it tightly as he began stroking its length, twisting at the head and then back down. Harry’s eyes were locked onto Draco’s cock and he found that he quite liked the audience. He shifted position slightly so Harry’s cock hit his prostate every time he was fully engulfed. 

The sensation was overwhelming and his hand slowed down on his own cock. Harry knocked Draco’s hand away and began stroking him, mimicking the motions he had just watched Draco do to himself, “Oh fuck, Harry, oh fuck, oh FUCK!” Draco slammed down one last time onto Harry’s cock and stayed there, rocking back and forth as he came powerfully, spurting up to Harry’s chin and crying out. 

The clenching of Draco’s arse proved too much and Harry came as well, pumping his hot seed into Draco. Draco continued rocking until he felt Harry’s cock stop jerking, then he leaned forward and kissed him messily, his arse still holding Harry’s cock. Draco collapsed against Harry, both of them breathing heavily. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and held him tight. When he felt Draco shiver, he cast a wandless warming charm over them both and Draco nearly purred in contentment.

“Stay with me,” Harry murmured a few minutes later. 

Draco was fighting off sleep but a chuckle rumbled in his chest, “After a shag like that, you’ll be hard pressed to get me to leave.”

Harry chuckled lightly, but then turned sober again, “Draco, I’m serious. Stay with me. Live here, as my equal...as my partner.”

Draco lifted up and studied Harry’s face. He saw nothing but genuine caring and hope in his eyes. He brushed his lips across Harry’s, “There is nowhere else I would rather be.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/156357.html).


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